The 1987 Nissan Micra rekindles fond memories

I wasn’t prepared for the sudden swell of emotion when handed the keys to a 1987 Nissan Micra.

When Nissan reintroduced the Micra here after a 22-year hiatus, the classic ’87 had been part of the promotional display at its 2014 relaunch. Half-jokingly, I suggested my status as a former owner of a similar car should be qualification enough to take it for a test drive. To my surprise, Nissan’s corporate communications director Didier Marsaud readily agreed. “Sure, I tink we can make zees happen,” he said, his characteristic Parisian accent like music to the ears.

It took nearly two years for the Micra’s and my schedule to align, but at last, here we were – with a brand-new Micra thrown into the mix for perspective.

That familiar boxy shape, homely yet comforting, instantly transported me back to a time when scraping together enough for a car of a “certain vintage” was still cause for personal celebration.

It was the early 90s, and as a newly single thirty-something who’d spent most of my formative years as a city-dwelling art student thumbing and bumming rides, I’d never really had a car of my own. I’d spent many a long hour, toothbrush in hand, cleaning vintage carburetors alongside my muscle-car crazy older brother. And I’d co-owned several Datsuns, Nissans and Toyotas during my previous relationship. But the pale blue, 1986 Nissan Micra purchased for the princely sum of $3,500 was the first car that was entirely mine. It was rudimentary mobility to be sure, but still, my humble beater, which one friend called “even uglier than a Yugo,” represented glorious freedom. Its 56 raging ponies took me on some unforgettable adventures, often accompanied by passengers who’ve long since departed this mortal coil.

Wheel grasped with both hands, mouth pursed to deliver a convincing “vroom-vroom,” my three-year-old nephew, now a strapping six-footer, had many journeys of his own in that old Micra.

The sweet memories blot out those best forgotten, such as the car’s tendency to suddenly quit on cold mornings – usually waiting until I was in busy traffic. The smell of “Quick Start” still makes me shudder; fumbling with the air hat, fingers frozen stiff as carrots, spraying a quick jolt into its tiny carburetor. Or, being flat on my back after a busy midnight shift at the newspaper, swearing mightily while attempting to secure my muffler with an old coat hanger.

However, this particular car, a 1987, has a rather interesting provenance as well. Purchased new by Karen Ackroyd of Woodbridge, Ontario, it wasdubbed “Baby” and meticulously maintained for the 27 years it was in her care. With only 125,000 kilometres on its odometer, “Baby” was nearly as pristine as the day it had rolled off the production line. When Karen decided to check out the revised 2015 Micra, the dealership surprised her with the keys to a brand-new car, which she promptly dubbed “Baby 2.” Her original ’87 Micra has remained on display in the dealer’s showroom ever since.

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

Until now. After spending a week with this awkward little piece of nostalgia, I’d logged nearly as many miles on it as I had on the previously reviewed new Micra. So, how do they compare? They don’t.

For those of us who revel in a driving experience that isn’t numbed by over-engineering, and who appreciate the simplicity of a tiny, ultra-light vehicle with chatterbox steering, and a delightfully engaging gearbox, this vintage hatchback is a “Way-Back Machine” of the first order.

Known as the “March” in its native Japan, where it was introduced in 1982, the Micra came to Canada in ’84 as the first product of Datsun’s rebirth as Nissan.Surprisingly, the Micra wasn’t – and still isn’t – available in the U.S. While it continued to be sold in European and Japanese markets, only the first-generation Micra K10 was available here from 1984 until it was replaced by the 1992 Sentra.

Canadian versions, such as Baby, came in five-door hatchback configuration and were powered by a 1.2-litre four-cylinder that put out 56 horsepower and 69 lb.-ft. of torque. That’s less power than the auxiliary motors on today’s hybrids, but when you consider that the Micra K10 weighs only 710 kilograms, suddenly those paltry numbers sound a lot more promising. The all-aluminum engine is mated to a sweet little five-speed gearbox and somehow, together, they transcend their modest appearances to deliver an experience that’s delightfully engaging.

Wrapping your hand around the well-worn ball, and driving the shifter home through each of those well-defined gates with a satisfying “snick,” while your feet work the clutch and throttle in perfect harmony – well, this is driving in its purest form. FM radio tuned to classic rock, USB adaptor plugged into the cigarette lighter – I’ve got all the modern technology I need, including navigation, through my smartphone.

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

1987 Nissan Micra

Lesley Wimbush, Driving

The large and slender wheel is connected to “arm-strong” manual steering that’s awkward and laborious during parking manoeuvres, yet surprisingly communicative on the road.

Of course, very little comes between you and that road. Behind the thin, grey vinyl upholstery plastered around the so-plain-it-hurts cabin, there’s nothing but air insulating the Micra’s tin-can body. Every bump, every pavement irregularity is transmitted by the tiny, twelve-inch wheels through the flat, compressed slab of the mouse-fur seat bottom.

Other than its sub-compact segment position in the automotive hierarchy, there really aren’t any shared similarities between “Baby” and the current iteration of the Nissan Micra.

For most modern drivers, this car would be a novelty at best. At worst, it’s an unwelcome reminder of the days when budget car ownership was limited to primitive engineering with very little concession to comfort, technology or design.

While I firmly believe that every automotive writer should be required to spend time behind the wheel of a car like “Baby” before ever putting pen to paper (or cursor to screen, as it were), there’s no question that the modern Micra is the hands-down winner in terms of safety, reliability and comfort, and the one I’d recommend to the average subcompact buyer.

For me, however, driving “Baby” was the next best thing to reuniting with an old friend.